Do You Think This is Punny!
by Shikajino
Summary: Canada has to deal with America's stupid when it comes down to them being alone at a World Meeting. No Pairings, 'cause this is serious crack.


"Oh my god, really Al?"

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><p>Ok, maybe I should explain a bit.<p>

Hi; I'm Matthew Williams; Canada, for those who want to know. Don't ask _how_ or _why_ I'm Canada; I don't even understand it. Every country has a personification that looks and acts like a stereotypical person from that country (you know like; "Why do Canadians say 'eh' all the time? Just look at their countries name! C, eh. N, eh. D, eh." …I'm _Canada_, so I'm allowed to say that. Bite me. ). Me? I love ice hockey, pancakes, beavers, and snow. Though I _don't_ live in an igloo (I know how to make one; which is awesome) or ride polar bears to wherever I'm going (I carry one with me though, which is also awesome. Kumakichijima is adorable, eh?). And, for god's sake, I'm _not _America's hat.

This brings me to my next point; America, my brother. His human name is Alfred F. Jones (He has never told us what the 'F' stands for. We, as in everyone_ other_ than America, have a betting pool on it. Most think it's 'Freedom'. I, personally, think it doesn't stand for anything; that's just like America). He's strong, tall, and muscular (with a bit of fat that gathers around his stomach, but I try not to bring that up. No sense making him _cry_…). He's a bit annoying sometimes (see: any time he's breathing) and he has trouble with the whole 'reading the atmosphere' thing. (He's the kind of guy that would tell a French Army Fail joke while storming Normandy.)

(Ok, he's the kind of guy that _did_ tell a French Army Fail joke while storming Normandy.)

But I digress.

Every country has one of us. France has Francis Bonnefoy. England has Arthur Kirkland (who is also the representative for the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland). And so on and so forth. Now, each country has something that separates it into smaller sections. Alfred has states and I have both provinces and territories. These pieces have representatives that personify them as well, and they are also the stereotype for their area. (So, Ontario thinks he's the center of the universe, Saskatchewan has a flat chest- the poor girl, Texas is a ladies man, and New York has anger issues.)

But just being the stereotype doesn't give you an excuse for anything.

I mean, I'm nice. I'm passive aggressive. I try to stay out of everyone's business. But that doesn't mean I don't know how to fight. Go check out some Canadian history, we kicked some serious butt in the World Wars. Really, we did. (Yes, we _were _there. Ingrates…) We even had our own beach on D-Day. (Juno, baby!)

But all that doesn't mean I can't be mean or aggressive. So, if I can sometimes be the opposite of what my country's supposed to be, can't America?

No. _Obviously_ not. That would be asking too much. _Much_ too much.  
>Which brings us back to the main point of today.<p>

It was May fourth and I was simply sitting in the conference room (we were having a world meeting as we often do) waiting for all the others to arrive, when something whizzed past my head. Startled, I jumped a few inches out of my chair and ended up on the floor. I glanced around worriedly, but found no one in the room with me. Which, though not normally odd for me to be left alone (I'm kind of invisible sometimes…), was a bit offsetting today seeing as I had been spending the night at my brothers (the meeting was in America this time) and he had insisted that we watch some movies from his horror collection. (Not one of his smartest ideas.) So, I was…kind of on edge…

Anyway.

I stood and found that it was a ball that had nearly grazed my face and lifted it into the air. Turning it around in my hand I noticed that it was Alfred's. (How did I know? First, it was a baseball. Second, it had an American flag sticker on it. Third, it had Alfred's name printed on it in sharpie marker. I'm_ such_ a detective, eh!) Guess I'd have to give it to him when I saw him. I went to make my way back to my chair when, low and behold, there stood my brother. (And, once again, I acquainted myself with the floor.)

My brother who was wearing a _shawl_ and brown _robes_.  
>My <em>brother <em>who had a hair clip to the right side of his head that had beads in it.  
><em>My<em> brother who was holding onto a small metalish contraption (that looked like a flashlight).  
>My brother who had a set of robes and a small metalish contraption (that looked like a flashlight) that he was holding out to <em>me<em>.

"Al…fred?"

"That's Jedi Master to you, Young Padawan. Now, here; take your robes and this light saber. We must go defeat the Sith Lord. Quickly!"

"…what?"

He sighed, shaking his head sadly before lifting me up off of the floor. "Here Matt. Put these on, now. We don't have much time."

I took the clothes and, after giving them a once over, slipped the shawl over my head. The robe went on next. And, before I knew it, Al was fluffing my hair back into a pony tail, clasping it with a large bead-thingy and shoving the small metalish contraption (that looked like a flashlight) into my hands.

"Come, Young Padawan. We must go. We must_ fight_. We must protect the Jedi way!" He took off towards the door of the meeting room, gesturing for me to follow, and follow I did. I was, by now, really curious as to what was going on. Really, it's not every day _this_ particular thing happens. (We have lots of other things happen, just...not this.)

We wandered down the hall and, before I knew it, Al had pushed me flat against a wall and was peering around the corner. "We have located them, Young Padawan. Come. Let us _FIGHT_!" He jumped out from behind the wall and with a _shing_-esche sound extended his small metalish contraption (that looked like a flashlight). He went to run forward, but noticed I wasn't following. "_Psst_. Matt! Come on! That was the cue. Jump out and extend your light saber!" I sighed and followed behind him, walking, and pulled down on the button on my…thingy?

Which is when I noticed the Italy brothers standing there; Lovino was staring (ok, glaring) and Feliciano appeared to be on the verge of tears (as usual), and I knew that, wherever Feli was, Ludwig would be near. Which scared me. A lot. I mean, there was a time (when love was blind. And—_nooooo _) when I could scare Germany with just a look, but that was a long time ago and, since then, I've never used my war glare. There was never a need. But, I _did_ send a _slightly _less intense one Alfred's way as he charged down the hall with his metalish thingy-ma-what's-it-ma-jig raised above his head.

"Die, Sith Lord Minions!"

"Alfred!" No use. He was being himself. (Which is pretty much a danger to everyone, _including _himself.)

I watched as my brother brought the metalish thing-a-ma-jig down next to Feli (who screamed and took off around the corner, sobbing and yelling something about having relatives that lived in New Jersey. Ok, whatever...) and then swiping it towards Lovino (who yelped and chased after his brother, screaming swear words at the top of his lungs). I patiently walked down the hall, retracting my metalish flashlight thing (that was a lovely dark green colour, Al's was blueish purple) and gave Alfred a confused look.

"_**What**_. Was that?"

"Sith Lord Minions, Mattie. Gotta be on the look out!" He retracted his what's-'cha-ma-who's-it and pranced in the opposite direction than the twins had gone (which I can't say was a bad decision, Ludwig was probably in the other direction…). I sighed (once again—I've been doing that a lot today, eh?) and followed behind him, jogging to catch up.

Before I knew it, I was being slammed against the wall again. "Shhh. Me thinks it's the Sith Lord I see."

"…what…?"

"The Sith Lord, Mattie. He's on the other side of the wall. I'm going in." He turned to me and grabbed my shoulders, looking into my eyes with such an intense expression, it was frightening. "If I don't come back, you have to promise me you'll get revenge. Take out the Sith Lord, and everything will be ok. Ok? It won't bring me back, but it will save the world. You'll be a hero Mattie. A hero. Well, I mean, that is _if_ I don't make it...but whatever. Promise me, Mattie." I stared. "_**Promise**_ me!"

"Fine, fine! _Fine!_ I…promise I'll get revenge on the…_Sith Lord _if he kills you…Kay?"

With a satisfied nod, Al jumped around the corner, raising a hand up and glaring. I heard cackling from the other side of the hallway, and I peered around the corner. There stood Prussia, Gilbert, with his hand raised as well, glaring at Alfred with enough intensity to (possibly) catch him on fire "Well hello, hello, Jedi Knight."

"That's Jedi _Master _to you!"

"Like it matters? I'm still more awesome than you. Now, it seems as if the force is being affected by how INCREDIBLY INTENSELY AWESOME I AM and isn't working, let's fight with our light sabers!" Gilbert let his hand drop only to produce a red coloured metalish thingy-ma-what's-it-ma-called and charged at Alfred who was, surprisingly, too slow to let his go. Alfred fell to the ground, screaming in mock pain, as the red 'beam' of light-up plastic was shoved under his armpit.

"OH GOD! IT HURTS! Matt! You _must_ protect the Jedi way! Go on without me!"

I blinked. This was honestly getting weirder by the second. What with Gilbert pulling his toy out and putting it away before_ prancing _off with a good-natured 'see you later Jedi _Master_…or maybe I won't!'

Seriously, what the heck? I ambled out and sat down beside Alfred who was laying on the floor, groaning out in pain. "Ma….Matt? Is that…is that…_you_?"

I sighed. I've been playing this long; I might as well finish out his stupid game with him. "Yeah, Alfie. It's me. What do you want?" It surprised me when his voice came out just above a whisper as he said:

"Come…come _closer_, Young Padawan. Important is what I have to say."

I leaned closer to him, putting my ear roughly eight centimeters (or three inches for all you not fully in metric—which is the true measurements and ones that you should all be using) from his mouth and listened closely to what he had to say.

"May the Fourth be with you, Young Padawan."

I pulled back. He couldn't have just…no. I…it's not _possible_. He didn't just…no. Maybe…maybe I'll _check_ and make sure. "What, exactly, did you just say?" He went to whisper again, but, if he said what I thought he said, I was seriously getting angry. "No, America. Normal volume. You're _pretend_ bleeding. Now, what did you just say?"

"May the Fourth be with you, Young Padawan."

"Oh my god, really Al?"

* * *

><p>And that's the day we decided it was best to make sure there was no stupid American holiday on any scheduled meeting. Seriously, who wants to deal with <em>that <em>again?

* * *

><p>I…don't know. I've been saying that for, like, four years and it occurred to me that it's something Alfred might do. It seemed like an amusing idea…<br>Anyway.  
>Seriously mostly crack, yupperz.<br>**Disclaimer:**I don't own Hetalia. Or Star Wars. Or the sharpie marker company. But…I do own a light saber. A blue light saber. It makes sound effects. Yeah. Be jealous.

And…sorry for anyone I may have…offended?  
>This is just an amusing outlet for a stupid piece of stupid. :D<p> 


End file.
